Broken
by splash1998
Summary: To say Derek Hale was broken was an understatement. His family had all burnt to death. His uncle killed his sister. And he had nobody. Derek's pain was insufferable. Until he saw light. Sterek one-shot.


**This idea came to me when I was listening to a song. I can't remember the song, but it was on the radio, and so I wrote this. Hope you like it. Sterek at the end.**

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To say Derek Hale was broken was an understatement. He had no one. No one who could hug him and tell him it will all be all right. No one.

Thinking about what happened that day upset him deeply. But he knew that it was his fault, no matter how many times Laura had told him it wasn't. He was the reason his family burnt to death. Who else could it be? Unless their father was having sex with a hunter and telling them everything about their family...Yes, Derek admitted as soon after the fire happened that he had been having sex with Kate Argent and that he had told her everything, helplessly in love. Then he realised you couldn't trust anyone in this world, and so he didn't trust anyone. Not even people who he needed to trust.

That led him on to think about his pack. And Scott. And Stiles. His werewolf pack consisted of three teens: Erica, Isaac and Boyd. Erica and Boyd, yeah, they were okay. Isaac was the one he liked best. Isaac was like himself. No one there for him. Isaac even lived with him because he had no one. But Derek pack and him weren't very connected, since trust was hard on Derek's part. Everybody in Beacon Hills had trust problems. You didn't know who to trust. You couldn't even trust some of the humans.

Stiles. That boy. Now, even though Stiles was an hyperactive teenage boy with a buzz cut hair cut and caramel eyes, with a reputation for being quick with his words, Derek felt like Stiles was one of them. In the pack. And he hated the fact that Stiles got into trouble regularly for something the werewolves did. That made Derek feel guitly. This was all because Stiles' best friend had gotten bitten, and gotten Stiles involved. Now, Stiles was in to deep to get out. He knew too much to just forget.

Derek ran a hand through his black hair. He was thinking too much. Thinking about things that weren't important. Things that made him him. The him now. The one who always frowned, and never smiled unless he was fake flirting with the lady police officer in the station. He remembered what he used to be liked before the fire. He was on the lacrosse team, like Scott. He wasn't classed as a nerd, but he wasn't really popular. He was know for his god like looks, and the girls chasing after him though. Laura had told him about how her friends even thought him hot. And they were older by a couple of years! He could also remember his best friend. His human best friend. The only human that actually knew about his family before his uncle killed him.

Peter Hale. His murdering, psychotic werewolf uncle who had somehow manage to come back from the dead. Derek's uncle, Peter, was never usually like that. Before the fire, and the death of his best friend, Peter was Derek's favourite uncle. Peter had always taken a shine to Derek, and always took him outside to play baseball. Now, Peter was a dead dick with no feelings. And he pissed Derek right off.

He was thinking to much. He had to get out of this house. Derek stood up, and glanced around the room he was in. The one where his family always used to gather to discuss important things. Now, it usually held the pack meetings. Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Scott and Stiles all gathered to discuss things. Stiles came to avoid his dad. Poor kid. Even Derek thought poor kid. The kid had lost his mother when he was twelve, and had been having panic attacks. Derek knew he felt sorry for the boy, even if they were supposed to hate one another. The boy had saved his life a few times, even willing to cut him arm off.

That was back when Derek was just another beta with electric blue eyes when he shifted. Kate Argent had gotten him with a wolfsbane bullet through the arm, knowing full well he would only had forty eight hours to live. But with the help of Scott and Stiles, he pulled through. He had owed them. Then he thought to a few weeks ago when Stiles had to hold him up for two hours in a swimming pool while the Kanima venom paralysed him. He hand to place his life in the hands of a sixteen year old boy. Guilt wrapped around him as he started, once more, to think of that boy. The things that kid has had to witness. People dying. First, his mom. Then the man getting crushed by his Jeep in the garage. And he was only human. He shouldn't have seen those things happen.

Derek was sure the kid had nightmares about it, even though he wouldn't confess. Another thing Derek and Stiles had in common. Derek had nightmares all the time, seeing the burnt, charred faces of his family tearing him apart, screaming, "THIS WAS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

It reminded Derek of the time when Scott accused him of everything. Killing his own sister, biting him, and killing the bus driver. Scott had screamed that in his face, reminding Derek of the terrifying nightmares he had sometimes when he closed his eyes to sleep. If you could sleep around here.

Derek had given up. Everything had gone wrong since he had become Alpha. Jackson becoming the kanima, Stiles seeing things he shouldn't, Isaac being left with no father... He had to get out of this house, and fast. He grabbed his keys from the kitchen side, and ran towards his black Chevrolet Camaro. Derek started it up and sped away towards the Stilinski household.

Derek usually climbed through Stiles' window to see how Stiles was doing and to find out what the kid knew. Stiles was smart and had straight A's in class. Derek parked just around the corner, got out and then walked towards the house. He slid the white window open, and threw himself into the room with absolutely no noise. Stiles was facing his computer, his back to Derek as he looked at something online. Something about werewolves. Derek felt the guilt creep up on him again. Guilt was a usual thing for him. Especially towards Stiles.

"Derek," Stiles' voice broke his train of though. "What are you doing here?"

Derek frowned. "How do you know I was here?"

"Heard the window open," Stiles said. "You know, it's not as quiet as you think. I also knew it was you because Scott or Isaac don't use the window. And if they do, they knock first."

"Good to know," Derek said, sitting on a chair next to Stiles' bed. "What are you doing?"

"Did Derek Hale just ask me what I'm doing? A question that actually shows he's interested?" Stiles mocked as he pulled paper from the printer. Derek glared at him, a usual thing that happened. "Fine, I was trying to figure out how Lydia had brought back Peter."

"Oh," Derek answered. "I'm not sure what she did. I was out for most of it. But she had somehow dragged me from the train to the house."

"How much do you weigh?" Derek glared at the boy as he asked that question. "What? I was just asking. You know, curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat," Derek countered, "and maybe it'll kill you."

"Really?" Stiles exclaimed. "You know, I should get a restraining order!"

Derek frowned and glared. "Why? Am I stalking or abusing you?"

Stiles shook his head. "No. But if my dad, the sheriff, found out that you came into my room every night, how do you think he would react?"

"And the only way he would find out is you telling him. And then I will come find you and-"

"Tear my throat out?" Stiles offered.

Derek thought about it. Would he really tear the boy's throat out? He had threatened it so much. But he never made a move to do it. Why was that? Maybe it was because he felt sorry for the boy. Defiantly because of that. Not because Derek cared or anything...pft, no.

"No, I was thinking more along the lines of ripping your arm off and beating you with it," Derek joked. Did he just joke? He did.

Stiles looked bewildered. "Did you just make a funny? I think you just made a funny!"

"My sense of humour isn't that damaged, you know."

Stiles chuckled. "What sense of humour? Unless you count throwing people up against walls and doors a sense of humour..."

"Ha. Funny." Sarcasm laced Derek's voice.

"Why aren't you at your house? Sleeping like a normal person?" Stiles changed the subject. And Derek was grateful. It would probably end up with Derek throwing Stiles into something anyway.

"Because I can't sleep," Derek answered truthfully. "Why aren't you? Don't you have school tomorrow?"

Stiles nodded. "Can't sleep either."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not tired."

Derek knew it was a lie. He didn't even need to hear the boy's heartbeat to know he was lying. Stiles' eyes were drooping as they had fallen silent, and he had about seven coffee mugs surrounding him, trying to keep him awake. So how could he be not tired?

"Do you usually stay awake?"

Stiles looked up. "No. I just can't sleep. I'm not tired."

"How about you answer that without lying?"

"Damn werewolf hearing!" Stiles muttered quietly, but Derek heard. He raised his voice to answer Derek. "Fine. Every time I close my eyes, I see flashbacks of that man dying."

Derek nodded.

"What about you?"

The question surprised Derek. What about him? He wasn't special. Nobody needed to worry about him. That was al Laura had done, and she had been killed. Anyone he had ever shown any emotion to had died. Even Kate Argent, and the emotion had been hate. So what about? He had killed everyone he loved. Why should he be cared for?

"No reason." Though he tried to sound calm, his hand was clenching the arm of the chair so hard he was trying not to break it.

"So that's why you look like you're about to break my chair."

"Stiles, leave it alone."

"You are obviously hurting, Derek! I just want to help!"

Why would he want to? It was Derek's fault! He did that to his family! to his older brother, to his mom, to his dad. His own blood. He had betrayed all of them. For what? So he could experience sex with an older woman? How could he be so stupid? And then when he got called out of history class to go to the principals office, seeing the two police officers standing there. Then the news came. And then they got taken to the house. Oh, the house.

He had cried on his sister's shoulder that day. He was at least glad he had Laura. But now he didn't! He had nobody! Everybody had left him. Because they knew. They knew what he had done. Betrayed them. His own blood. Derek looked at the teenage boy in front of him who wore a concerned expression as Derek's eyes got clouded with tears. He hadn't cried since the fire, but thinking and thinking and thinking of what happened had brought back the ability to feel emotion to Derek. Peter was right.

Peter had rambled onto Derek about how he lacked heart. How he underestimated the simple, yet undeniable power of human love. And yet Peter knew he was talking to Derek. The person who didn't trust people. Feel emotion. But Peter saw something Derek obviously didn't. And now Peter always coughed when Stiles was around. Why though? It can't be because Derek cares for the boy. Because, even though he would never fully admit it, he did. He would never admit it because Stiles would be dead in a few hours if he did.

"Derek!" Stiles was shaking him now. Pulling him back from whatever darkness he was in. The shaking continued as he looked as saw Stiles' caramel eyes looking into his own green ones. "Snap out of it!"

But Derek couldn't. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't hear properly. He couldn't even see. He felt as if his lungs were being stomped on, squeezing out all of the air so he had none to breathe. All the time, he was thinking about his pack, Scott, Stiles, even Peter, lying in a pile, dead, while hunters stood to the side with blood on their hands. Everybody he had or did care about. Dead. The hunters had taken that from him. And they will take it from him.

"Derek!"

Why was his voice breaking through? Why did he consistently want to help him? Nobody was here for him! Nobody cared!

"Derek, breathe!"

He couldn't. His lungs were empty. His life was empty. He was torturing himself because of what he had done to his family. To everybody he cared about. It was his fault. He told them about his family being werewolves. Laura was still his fault even if it wasn't the hunter who had killed her. He had pushed her back to Beacon Hills, to find out who had killed their family. Even he hadn't known that Peter was willing to kill her to become Alpha. And that was Derek's fault.

Everything was Derek's fault. Scott getting bitten. Stiles witnessing things he shouldn't witness. Lydia getting hurt by Peter. Jackson becoming the Kanima from his bite. Isaac becoming a fugitive because Jackson killed his father, and Isaac then becoming a suspect. Erica and Boyd getting captured and tortured by Gerard. Jackson getting killed. Everything that had happened in Beacon Hills was his fault.

And his dear family. The human cousins he had, dead. His mom, human. His aunts. Human. He was a murderer. He had the blood on his own hands. It was his fault that his family was now rotting in the ground. It was his fault that Stiles was having nightmares and panic attacks. Everything was his fault.

"Derek!"

Suddenly, Derek saw light. He saw hope. He saw Stiles' caramel eyes in front of him as he was brought back to the present. He still couldn't breathe properly, but the boot squeezing his lungs had ceased.

"Derek?" Stiles questioned as he noticed Derek's chest not rising. He panicked. "Derek, breathe. I think you are having a panic attack. Just breathe."

Derek did as he was told, slowly breathing in and out as he focused on the boy in front of him. He saw what Peter saw. He saw what everybody else saw when they were with one another.

He saw them. Together. Happy.

"Are you okay? Jesus. I just asked a question! And then you have to go all panic attack on me! I have them! Not werewolves!" Stiles exclaimed, rambling.

"I'm sorry," Derek said, quietly.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry? I'm just glad you're okay," Stiles said. Then he put a brave face on. "So, what was that all about?"

Derek sighed in annoyance. "Really? You want to know what sent me into a panic attack? It could send me towards having another one."

"Tell me Derek. It's obviously a lot of shit."

Derek glared and then sighed in defeat, tears welling in his eyes. "I was thinking about my family. How it was my fault. How everything is my fault. You getting involved, danger of getting hurt and seeing things you shouldn't be seeing. Scott getting bitten. I should have defeated and taken down the alpha before he had the chance to bite Scott. Jackson becoming the Kanima. I had bitten him. It was my fault that he changed into that killing machine and killed people. Lydia getting hurt when Peter wanted to find out where I was. Everything. Isaac's dad dying, and Isaac being alone and a fugitive. Erica and Boyd for being captured and tortured. Everything. Who else's fault would it be? Huh? Yours? No. It's mine. I killed those people-"

"Stop!" Stiles yelled. "Enough!"

"Huh?" Derek asked. Wasn't he just the one that asked for a detailed description on how Derek was feeling?

"Enough! None of that shit was your fault. It was nobody's fault. The hunters' fault for most of it. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Derek sighed. "You don't get it, Stiles. You don't get that I know I can never be happy because everyone dies on me. You'll die on me soon. Just because I care about you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Derek smiled. A genuine smile that was so nice. "Good."

Derek leant forward, dipped down and stole a kiss from the boy. The boy melted in his arms. It felt so right.

For once, Derek had forgotten about everything, as soon as Stiles' came into contact with him. Stiles was the one who was slowly mending the pieces to his broken heart, piece by piece.

For once, Derek felt safe. Holding his mate in his arms and his mate holding him.

Because, Derek maybe be broken, but he was slowly getting fixed. Slowly, but surely. By the hyperactive teenage boy who always got on his nerves.

Broken things can be fixed. And he was being fixed.

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**Like it? Review and tell me!;D**


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